


Daughter of Mycroft

by Magic_Space_Deduction



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, My First AO3 Post, Mycroft's daughter, Protective Mycroft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magic_Space_Deduction/pseuds/Magic_Space_Deduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet Marriette Holmes, Daughter of Mycroft Holmes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting Marriette

 

Hi, I'm Marriette Holmes. Well, actually my full name is Marriette Yarna Cecelia Roseline Ophelia Florence Tatiana Hannah Olivia Lucinda Margret Elizabeth Sophia Holmes. The reason that I have such a long and complex name is my father. Mycroft Holmes. You see the initials of my name spell out his; M.Y.C.R.O.F.T. H.O.L.M.E.S. Isn't he egotistical? On the upside it means I can have a different name for each day of the week, so I never get bored.

Mama changes her name every month, 'for security reasons' although I'm sure its just because she's bored, too.

A bit about me:

Age: 25 however I'm in the last year of my degrees in Medicine, Chemistry and Biology I've completed degrees in Physics, Forensics and Maths.

Birthday: 21st March.

Height: 5 foot 7.

Hair Colour: Black/ really Dark Brown.

Eye Colour: Blue mainly although it varies on my mood.

Siblings: One called Quentin, but Uncle Sherlock could be classed as another one... maybe.

Friends: Um... well being who my parents are I have to be really careful... And Who really needs them?

Hobbies: I play the Violin and the Piano, although Father wants me to stop playing the Violin and Uncle Sherlock wants me to stop playing the Piano. I sing, but I hate doing it publically. Books are my best friends. I love working with Computers, and given who my Father is I have access to the latest gadget months before they are launched. Father insisted that I learn karate, and a few other martial arts, for my protection. I also can operate most guns, my favourite is the Browning Hi-Power. I love baking, but am useless at gardening unless its vegetables, I kill every flower under my care.

Favourites: Blue (Colour), Border Collie (Dog), Penguin (Animal), The Queen and Star Trek in to Darkness (Films - Star Trek, because the villain looks a bit like Uncle Sherlock!) Little Women (Book), Cadburys (Chocolate).

Personality; Hard to read, easy to talk to(compared to Father and Uncle Sherlock), Observant (obviously), Intelligent (again, obviously), Unique, Protective (of family), Patriotic and easily bored with 'normal' life.

Family relationships: Mama -brilliant, we talk about most things, and we will go shopping together often. She want's me to be happy, that's all that matters to her.  
Father - ok, he is very over protective, and while I know he loves me, but he struggles to express it, in normal terms. He thinks he knows what's best for me, but on some rare occasions he is wrong.  
Uncle Sherlock - good, he like Father struggles to express his feelings for me, but he is slightly better than father, also he doesn't tell me how to behave. Unfortunately Uncle Sherlock is as protective of me as Father.  
Nana Holmes - the best, she knows exactly what I want and when I need a hug.  
Granddad - fun, he makes sure I'm not too cold and emotionless, he's great for teaching me practical things, like woodwork.  
Quentin - Good, I rarely see him, he's 8 years older than me and the best older bother I could ask for, he taught me everything I know about computers and programming, Uncle Sherlock often calls him Q.  
Uncle James - serious, he's Quentin's partner, he taught me all about guns and how to use them, I've heard him referred to as 007 so he and Quentin must work at MI6 cause they work together and MI6 has 007 and Q for code names.

Ambitions in life: to take over my father's job. I mean, who wouldn't want to be THE British Government? but until then Consulting Detective, just to annoy Father.


	2. Meeting John Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Marriette meets John Watson. Read to find out!

I was at St Bart's with Uncle Sherlock, I didn't have any lectures at University today, and Father and Mama have been really busy, and Quentin was working, so I'd just be in their way. I should just point out that I moved into Uncle Sherlock's flat when I started University as it was closer, and to keep an eye on Uncle Sherlock for Father. So I was sitting in the lab while Uncle Sherlock was researching something. Then Mike Stamford walked in.

Uncle Sherlock had just come back from the morgue and joined me in conducting experiments down at the lab when Mike walked in along with another man, I had never seen before. Uncle Sherlock glanced up from the microscope.

“A bit different from my day.” I heard the man mutter. His day? Curious.

“Oh you have no idea.” Mike replied.

Then Uncle Sherlock cut in, “Mike can I borrow your phone? There’s no signal on mine.”

“And what’s wrong with the land line?”

“I prefer to text.”

“What about Ophelia’s?” I snapped my head up from the microscope next to Mike.

“It’s Biometric, only Mama, Father and Quentin can use it aside from me.” I replied. Mike sighed and started checking his pockets. I looked him up and down. Moron, he left it in his coat.

“Sorry, it’s in my coat.” Knew it. The other man pulled out his phone.

“Here, use mine.” He offered.

“Oh. Thank you.” Uncle Sherlock walked over and he gave Uncle Sherlock his phone. I went over and started analysing, ‘old friend’ of Mike’s, while Uncle Sherlock sent a text.

“An old friend of mine, John Watson.” Mike introduced the man. I looked from the phone to John and glanced at him quickly. Knew it. He’s an Army Doctor.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Uncle Sherlock asked him. Mike smirked while poor John just looked confused.

“Sorry?” John asked.

“Which one were you in, Afghanistan or Iraq?” I clarify Uncle Sherlock’s question.

“Afghanistan,” John looked at us, “How did yo…” just then Molly entered.

“Ah Molly, Coffee thank you,” Uncle Sherlock said interrupting John. Molly handed Uncle Sherlock a coffee and me a tea. She only put one sugar in Uncle Sherlock’s coffee, oh dear. “What happened to the lipstick?” Uncle Sherlock asked.

“It wasn’t working for me.” Molly replied nervously. Poor girl is always nervous around Uncle Sherlock, well that’s just what ‘love’ does to you, what a pity, and she really is a darling.

“Really? I thought it was a big improvement, mouth is too small now.” Uncle Sherlock said bluntly. I just sighed. I’m trying to help Uncle Sherlock with his social skills; you can see it’s not going very well.

“Okay,” Molly scuttles out of the room. Uncle Sherlock and I walk back to the microscope and sipped our Coffee, Uncle Sherlock making a slightly disgusted face at the bland drink, he’s told her so many times 2 sugars in the coffee.

“How do you feel about the violin?” Uncle Sherlock asked John, who looked rather puzzled.

“I’m sorry, what?” John replied.

“We play the violin when we’re thinking, sometimes we don’t talk for days on end, or at least Uncle doesn’t, would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.” I said, smiling at John, trying to be friendly. However John stood still, looking very confused.

“Oh, yo-you told them about me?” John stuttered out at Mike, who was playing with a test tube.

“If you don’t fancy having acid erode the bones in your hand, I would put that down Mike.” I told him without looking up; I noticed Uncle Sherlock hide a grin as Mike put the test tube down rather quickly. I grinned at him.

“Not a word.” Mike replied to John.

“So who said anything about flatmates?” John asked us.

“I did. We told Mike this morning we must be difficult people to find a flatmate for,” Uncle Sherlock stated while cleaning up, “Now here he is, just after lunch with an old friend, who is clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan.” He finished, putting his jacket on and handing me my coat.

“It wasn’t a difficult leap.” I added in, putting on my coat and scarf.

“How did you know about Afghanistan?” John questioned. Uncle Sherlock and I ignored his question.

“Got our eye on a nice place in central London, together we three ought to be able to afford it.” Uncle Sherlock said as we walked back to John and Mike.

“We’ll meet you there tomorrow morning 7 o’clock. Sorry gotta dash, Uncle thinks he’s left the riding crop in the morgue.” I piped up, smiling at John, who still looked rather baffled.

“Is that it?” He asked before we left.

“Is that what?” I replied.

“We’ve only just met, and now we’re gonna go look at a flat.” He stated jokingly.

“Problem?” I asked, looking at John, shrugging.

“We don’t know a thing about each other; I don’t know where we’re meeting. I only know your called Ophelia; I don’t know your Uncle’s name.” John stated. I signed and looked at Uncle Sherlock as if saying ‘you take this one’ he looked at me then back to John.

“I know you’re an army doctor and you’ve just returned home from Afghanistan. I know you have a brother who’s worried about you, but you won’t go to him for help because you disapprove of him, possibly because he’s an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife, and I know that you therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic.” Uncle Sherlock reeled off.

“Quite correctly, I’m afraid. That’s enough to be going on with don’t you think?” I finished for him smiling. Uncle Sherlock gave me a proud smile and opened the door for me as we left, by the poked his head back in.

“The names are Sherlock and Ophelia Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street.” Uncle Sherlock and I made our way to the morgue.


	3. At the flat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when the trio check out the flat?  
> \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Uncle Sherlock and I arrived back at Baker Street in the taxi, John was waiting outside.

“Morning,” We greeted him as we got out of the taxi and walked towards John, before shaking his hand.

“Ah, Mr and Miss Holmes.” John greeted.

“Please John, call us Sherlock and Ophelia.” Uncle Sherlock smirked before replying. I nodded my head in agreement.

“Well, this is a prime spot, it must be expensive.” John said, but phrased it like a question.

“Mrs Hudson, the landlady, has given us a special deal. Owes me a favour, a few years back he husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida, I was able to help out.” Uncle Sherlock explained, smiling at me.

“Hey, I helped as well! Who organized the flights and everything, hmmm? Because it certainly wasn’t you” I exclaimed.

“Yes, Indeed.” Uncle Sherlock said.

“You two stopped him being executed?” John asked.

“Oh no we ensured it.” I explained, smiling. John looked rather taken back at my excitement. Uncle Sherlock knocked on the door to 221 Baker Street.

The door opened and an old lady in a purple dress stepped out to greet us.

“Oh Sherlock, Ophelia dear!” she greeted us. She hugged us both and we stepped back so she could she John.

“Mrs Hudson, Dr John Watson,” I introduced, gesturing to him with my hand, the smile never leaving my face.

“Oh, hello dear, please come in.” Mrs Hudson said waving him in.

“Ah, thank you.” John said limping inside past Mrs Hudson.

“Shall we?” Uncle Sherlock gestured for me to go first. I grinned at, before walking in past Mrs Hudson. Uncle Sherlock and I quickly went up the stairs, and then we waited for John to for an opinion.

“Well, this could be very nice, very nice indeed.” John said to us. I nodded, I was glad he likes my home away from home.

“Yes, yes we thought so, our thoughts exactly.” Uncle Sherlock mused, “Which is why we moved in.” Uncle Sherlock said the same time John said: “Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out.” After an awkward pause, me and Uncle Sherlock had a quick eye conversation and decided we needed to start tidying up the flat a bit, so we did.

“So this is all… Uhm” John started, and Uncle Sherlock and I continued cleaning up.

“Well, obviously we can... Uhm clean up… a bit” I said while sorting out some papers of mine that had somehow gotten onto Uncle Sherlock’s desk. John used his cane to point to the skull on the mantel piece.

“It’s a skull.” Good one John

“Friend of ours. Well… when I say friend…” I drifted off. Uncle Sherlock and I took off our coats and scarves throwing them onto the desk chair, well Uncle Sherlock did I hung up my coat and scarf.

“Well, What do you think then Dr Watson?” there’s another bedroom upstairs, if you’ll be needing a separate one.” Mrs Hudson said, winking at John. I smirked and looked at Uncle Sherlock; he gave me that ‘shut up’ look he always gets.

“What? Of course we’ll be needing another…” John started looking confused. I smirked once again at his lack of understanding at Mrs Hudson’s joke. She looked at me and we shared a look. Thanks Mrs Hudson. I’ll be having a lot of fun with this.

“Oh don’t worry dear, there are all sorts around here, Mrs Turner – next door has got married ones.” Mrs Hudson said turning her attention back to John. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing a bit, Uncle Sherlock glared at me. I smiled sweetly at him and he just turned away. Rude! 

“Oh Sherlock, Ophelia, the mess you’ve made!” She said making her way to the kitchen to try and tidy up our experiments. She better not touch the breadbox… I had to bribe Molly to give me that liver… John sat down in the chair while me and Uncle Sherlock sorted out our papers on the desk and around it.

“Looked you up on the internet last night” John said to Uncle Sherlock, “I could find anything about you Ophelia, though…”

“I don’t expect you could, no-body can, but did you find anything interesting about Uncle Sherlock?” I love it when people found Uncle Sherlock’s website as I helped to set it up.

“Found your website, The Science of Deduction.” He explained. I was right!! Uncle Sherlock and I shared a look.

“What did you think?” Uncle Sherlock asked smirking.

“You said you could identify a pilot by their tie, a teacher by their shoes and a software designer by his left hand?” John seemed disbelieving.

“Of course! Just like I can deduced your military career from you face and leg, and your brother’s drinking habits from your mobile phone!” I exclaimed.  
Oh how I love being smart.

“How?” John asked after a moment. Then Mrs Hudson came back in.

“How about these suicides then, Sherlock, Ophelia? They must be right up your street, three exactly the same.” She trailed off. Uncle Sherlock and I looked out of the window and saw a police car. A fourth. Something different, has to be otherwise they wouldn’t come and get us.

“Four. There’s been a fourth. Something’s different this time.” Uncle Sherlock voiced my thoughts.

“My thoughts exactly.” I smiled. Lestrade came running up the stairs. Before he could say anything, I interrupted.

“Hi Greg, where is it?” I asked getting to the point.

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.” Lestrade answered, sighing.

“What’s different about this one? You wouldn’t have come to get us if there wasn’t something different.” Uncle Sherlock asked.

“You know how they never leave notes?” Greg said.

“Yeah.” I replied this time.

“Well, this one did. Will you come?”

“Who’s on forensics?” I ask. Both Uncle Sherlock and I silently hoping it was not Anderson.

“Anderson.” Lestrade answered.

“Aww, S**t.” I exclaimed.

“Ophelia language, what would your father say?” Uncle Sherlock asks

“He’d probably attempt to scold me, before I pull the eyes that say but Uncle Sherlock does, befroe he comes storming around here and having a go at you.” I replied

“That’s not fair.” Uncle Sherlock complained

“Anyway back to the topic, Anderson won’t work with us.” I stated, glancing at Uncle Sherlock.

“Well, he won’t be your assistant!” Greg argued. I rolled my eyes.

“We need an assistant!” I said through clenched teeth, Uncle Sherlock nodded.

“Will you come?” Lestrade repeated, growing impatient. Uncle Sherlock and I looked at each other.

“Not in a police car, we’ll be right behind.” Uncle Sherlock said looking back out of the window.

“Thank you.” Lestrade said, relieved. Lestrade glanced at John and left. Uncle Sherlock and I stayed calm until we heard the front door closed. Then we jumped in excitement.

“Brilliant!” Uncle Sherlock exclaimed and hugged me quickly.

“Four serial suicides, and now a note, ahh, its Christmas!” I shouted with joy, twirling around. “Mrs Hudson we’ll be late, might need some tea.” I said before grabbing my coat and scarf off the peg.

“I’m your landlady deary, not your housekeeper.” Mrs Hudson protested.

“Something cold will do! John have a cup of tea, make yourself at home!” Uncle Sherlock shouted as he grabbed his stuff.

“Don’t wait up!” I shouted as me and Uncle Sherlock rushed our. We were discussing theories right before we left, when we heard John yell from upstairs.

“DAMM MY LEG!!” John yelled in frustration. I looked at Uncle Sherlock and after a silent conversation we went back upstairs and stood in the door way looking at John.

“You are a doctor.” I said.

“Any good?” Uncle Sherlock.

“Very good.” John replied

“So you’ve seen a lot of injuries then, violent death.” Uncle Sherlock said

“Yes, enough for a lifetime, far to much!” John replied

“Want to see some more?” I cut in smiling.

“Oh, God yes.” John replied. Then we all rushed outside into the taxi.


	4. Taxi Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally updated after so long, Sorry!! Also I realized I missed a chapter, so sorry. :(

We were on our way to the taxi, and no one was talking. I looked at John and shared a look with Uncle Sherlock. I sighed.

“Okay, John, you’ve got questions. Go ahead, ask away.” I eventually broke the silence. John looked over at me and nodded.

“Umm, where are we going?” He asked

“Crime scene, next?” I replied.

“Who are you two, I mean, what do you do?”

“What do you think?” Uncle Sherlock answered this time.

“I’d say private detective…” John started.

“However?” I said, gesturing for him to continue his ‘observations’.

“But, the police don’t go to private detectives.” He said, finishing. Uncle Sherlock and I smirked at his correct thinking.

“We are Consulting Detectives. Only ones in the world, Uncle Sherlock invented the job.” I said, smiling at Uncle Sherlock.

“And what, exactly does that mean?” John asked.

“It means that when the police are out of their depth – which is always, by the way – they consult us.” I said proudly, with Uncle Sherlock snorting at my remark about the police.

“But the police don’t consult amateurs.” John stated, smiling. I looked at Uncle Sherlock and he nodded to me as if telling me to show off my skills. Prepare to be amazed John.

“Yesterday, when we meet you for the first time, I asked you Afghanistan or Iraq, you looked surprised.” I started, smiling.

“Yeah, how did you know?” John focused his attention to me now.

“I didn’t know, I ‘observed’. Your haircut, and the way you hold yourself indicates military. Your conversation as you entered the room said you trained at Bart’s, so an army doctor, obvious. Your face is tanned, but there is no tan above the wrist, so you’ve been abroad but not for sunbathing. Your limp’s really bad, when you walk, but you don’t ask for a chair when you stand, so it’s as if you’ve forgotten about it. So the limp must be only partially psychosomatic, that says the original circumstances of the wound were traumatic. Wounded in action then. So where could have gone if you were in action and got a suntan? Afghanistan or Iraq.” I finished with a smile. Uncle Sherlock looked very proud, and he put his arm around me, as a form of congratulations.

“You said I had a therapist.” John pointed out.

“With a psychosomatic limp? Of course you’ve got a therapist, it’s obvious.” I told him with a laugh. “Then there’s your brother.” I started again.

“Huh?”

“Your phone. It’s expensive, email enabled, mp3 player, etc. Yet you’re looking for a flat share, so you’re not going to waste money on this, so it’s a gift then. Scratches, many times over, so it’s been in the same pocket as keys and coins. You wouldn’t treat his one luxury item like this, so it has had a previous owner then. Next bits easy, you know it already!” I told him excitedly.

“The engraving.” John stated.

“Harry Watson. Clearly a family member who’s given you their old phone. Not a parent, as this is a young person’s gadget, could be a cousin, but you’re a war hero who can’t find a place to live, unlikely you’ve got an extended family, certainly not one you’re close too, so a sibling it is! Now Clara… who’s Clara?” I asked with a teasing tone, smirking slightly, “Three kisses say it’s a romantic attachment, the cost of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She’s given it to your sibling recently, as this model is only 6 months old. The marriage must be in trouble them, 6 months old and they’re just giving it away? If she’d left them, they would have kept the phone, sentiment, but they’ve given it you, so they want rid of it. They left her. They also gave you the phone that says they want you to stay in touch. You’re looking for cheap accommodations, but you won’t go to your sibling for help? That suggests that you’ve got problems with them. Maybe you liked their wife?” I looked at John, and seeing the look on his face looked away, “Maybe you don’t like their drinking. Now normally I would say your sibling is male, Harry is a male name, and same-sex marriages are rare, however this is a feminine phone, and you seem like a man who would disapprove of his sister more than a brother and Harry can be short for Harriett, so I’m going with sister.” I finished, smiling at John, while I noticed Uncle Sherlock look puzzled at my last lines of reasoning.

“How… could you possible know about the drinking?” John asked me. I smirked.

“Shot in the dark really…” I started.

“Good one though.” Uncle Sherlock smiled at me.

“Tiny scuff marks around the edge of the charger socket. Every night she goes to plug it in to charge, but her hands are shaking. Never see those marks on a sober person’s phone; never see drunks without them. So you see you were right.” I smiled, and Uncle Sherlock pulled me into a side hug.

“I am so proud of you Ophelia!” He said, with not a single hint of sarcasm in his voice, compliments from Uncle Sherlock were rare, Father’s compliments were even rarer, so when they give them to me, and they really mean it, it means a lot to me. I hugged Uncle Sherlock back.

“I was right? Right about what?” John asked.

“The police don’t consult amateurs.” Uncle Sherlock answered for me smiling.

“That… was amazing.” John said, complimenting us. Uncle Sherlock and I were shocked. We don’t normally get compliments from people we deduce…

“You… really think so?” I asked, I was genuinely confused by the compliment.

“Of Course it was, it was quite extraordinary.” John said, reassuring me.

“Huh. That’s not what people normally say.” Uncle Sherlock mused out load. John looked confused.

“What do people normally say?” John asked curiously. I smirked.

“Piss off.” I answered. Uncle Sherlock and John laughed too as we rode off to the crime scene.


	5. Father and Mama

Uncle Sherlock left me and John at the crime scene, so we had to make our own way back to the flat. Sally told John to stay away from us, but he totally ignored her, and carried on walking towards the main road. I heard the phone ringing and grinned, it was father trying to be mysterious. When John did eventually pick up the phone, I saw each security camera that I could see turn away from us, that wasn’t creepy or anything. We both got into the car, Mama was there but we didn’t say anything, we were having too much fun.

When we arrived at the warehouse that Father had decided on, I stayed in the car to talk to Mama briefly, before I climbed out the car just as John told Father he didn’t seem very frightening, I sniggered.

“Ah Marriette, do come and join us.” Damm Father had seen me, he called me over.

“Hello.” I said.

“Her name’s Ophelia, not Marriette.” John says.

“Ophelia is what Sherlock Holmes calls her. Her full name is rather complex, but she is Marriette Holmes.” Father replies.

“She, is standing right next to both of you and doesn’t like being referred to in the 3rd person, while she’s in the room.” I retorted, “You had soup for Lunch, as did ‘Anthea’, did you enjoy it?” I asked Father.

“Yes, but don’t try to be clever, I know you haven’t eaten anything today. Tut tut. Naughty girl, what will your mother say?” Father replies.  
He then turns to John, “What is your connection to Sherlock and Marriette Holmes?”

“I don’t really have one. I barely know them. I met them… yesterday.” John replied.

“Mmm, and since yesterday, you’ve moved in with them, and now you’re solving crimes together. Should we expect a happy announcement from Sherlock regarding you by the end of the week?” Father asks John.  
I grinned; ooh I’m going to have sooooo much fun teasing them with this!

“Who are you?” John asks

“An interested party.”

“Interested in Sherlock and Ophelia.” Yay! Go John, Suck on that Father “Why? I’m guessing you’re not friends.”

“You’ve met Sherlock. How many friends do you imagine he has?” Father replies. “I am the closest thing to a friend the Sherlock Holmes is capable of having.”

“And what’s that?” John asks

“An enemy.” Father replies

“An enemy?”

"In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he’d probably say his arch – enemy. He does love to be dramatic.”

“Well, thank God you’re above all that!” John retorts, before he gets a text, I get one too, it’s from Uncle Sherlock

 

Baker Street  
Come at once if convenient.  
SH

“I hope I’m not distracting you.” Father said, he hates it when people ignore him.

“Not distracting me at all.” John replies

“Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes and by extension Mariette Holmes as well?”

“I could be wrong… but I think that’s none of your business.” John replies

“It could be.” Father retorts

“It really couldn’t.”

Father reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little note book, there’s nothing really written there though, I know this because he has reading glasses, and he hasn’t got them out.

“If you do move into, um… 221B Baker Street, I’d be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way.”

“Why?” John asks

“Because you’re not a wealthy man.” Father retorts

“In exchange for what?” John asks

“Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you’d feel… uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he’s up to.”

“Why? And why not Ophelia too?”

“Marriette doesn’t need watching… I can check up on her through other means. Sherlock on the other hand, I worry about him. Constantly.”

“That’s nice of you.” John retorts.

“But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a… difficult relationship." Father struggled to articulate his relationship with Uncle Sherlock

Both John and I get another text alert.

If inconvenient, come anyway.  
SH

“No” John replies.

“But I haven’t mentioned a figure.”

"Don’t bother.”

“You’re very loyal very quickly.”

“No, I’m not, I’m just not interested." John replied

Father pulled out his book again and says: “‘Trust issues’, it says here.”

“What’s that?” John asks

“Could it be that you’ve decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?” Father asks.

“Who says I trust him?”

“You don’t seem to be the kind to make friends easily.”

“Are we done?” John asks

“You tell me.”

John turns away from Father and starts limping back to the car.

“I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that’s not going to happen.”

“My what?” John asks.

“Show me.” Father demands

John holds up his hand. Father walks over and attempts to take John’s hand.

“Don’t…” John starts, but Father gives him the same look he often gives me, and John quickly caves in. Father takes hold of John’s hand.

“Remarkable.” Father says.

“What is?” John asks

“Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield. You’ve seen it already, haven’t you?” Father turns to John.

“What’s wrong with my hand?”

“You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. Your therapist thinks it’s post-traumatic stress disorder. She think you’re haunted by memories of your military service.”

“Who the hell are you?” John demands, “How do you know that?”

“Fire her. She’s got it the wrong way round. You’re under stress right now, and your hand is perfectly steady. You’re not haunted by the war, Dr Watson… You miss it……. Welcome back. Time to choose a side, Dr Watson” John gets a text alert.

Then Mama walks over, “I’m to take you home.”

Could be dangerous  
SH

John reads the message, puts his phone away and then glances at his hand.

“Address?” Mama asks.

“Er, Baker Street. 221B Baker Street. But I need to stop off somewhere first.” John says.

Mama turns to me “My boss has got another car to take you directly to Baker Street.” I nodded knowing that Father will be in the car, and will probably force me to eat something on the way over. “Fine” I say, watching as John gets in the car.

I walk over to Father’s car and get in.

“Hello Father,” I lean over and hug him.

“Marriette.” He starts, “How are you?”

“Fine, but I am a little hungry I suppose.” I tell him, trying to offset the lecture that I’m bound to get.

“Yes, I imagine you are, it’s a good job I have some food for you then is it not?” He pulls some sandwiches out of a mini fridge in the car, along with a bar of my favourite chocolate, a bottle of Orange juice and an apple. He hands them to me and I start on the sandwiches, putting the chocolate bar in my pocket for later.

We soon arrive at Baker Street and Father turned to me. “Now remember, eat regular meals, and try to sleep for longer – this lack of sleep is making you look ill. Also do not forget that you are coming home on Sunday for Lunch, Quentin will be there as well.”

“Yes Father, give my love to mama. I’ll see you on Sunday at 11:40.” I reply getting out of the car.

Uncle Sherlock was lying on the sofa when I got back, I sat in his chair, by the fireplace with my hands under my chin in a prayer position, and I noticed he had found the suitcase of the ‘pink’ lady. I also noticed that Uncle Sherlock had his nicotine patches, so I put one on after I got changed into this, before John came upstairs.

“What are you doing?” John asked suspiciously.

“Nicotine patch,” Uncle Sherlock answered, “helps us think.” I rolled up my sleeve to show John mine, before rolling it back down and getting up and giving John his cup of tea. He thanked me, and took a sip. Uncle Sherlock looked over at his cup for the first time.

“When did this get here?” Uncle Sherlock asked me.

“I made it when I got in, Uncle Sherlock, it should still be warm.” Uncle Sherlock nodded in thanks and took a sip.

“Why nicotine patched?” John asked us. I rolled my eyes.

“Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days, bad news for brainwork.” I answered him, moving to the kitchen to put my cup in the sink.

“Good news for breathing.” I heard John mutter.

“Ugh, breathing. Breathing’s boring.” Uncle Sherlock said as I walked back in. I rolled my eyes at him. John looked closer at Uncle Sherlock’s arm.

“Is that… 3 patches?” He asked, concerned.

“It’s a three patch problem.” Uncle Sherlock answered like it was obvious.

“Ophelia, how many are you wearing?” John turned to me now, if possible, looking more concerned.

“Only one, John, calm down, Father or Uncle Sherlock won’t allow me to have more.” I answered calmly, moving to sit on the back of the sofa, so I was perched behind Uncle Sherlock’s legs.

“Well… you asked us to come; I’m assuming it’s important.” John said, looking at Uncle Sherlock now.  
Uncle Sherlock gasped slightly and his eyes shot open.

“Oh right, of course, can I borrow your phone?” Uncle Sherlock asked John.

“My phone?” John asked to confirm what Uncle Sherlock had said.

“Can’t use mine, and Ophelia’s phone won't work for me.” Uncle Sherlock replied

“Mrs. Hudson’s got a phone.” John started.

“Yeah, she’s downstairs, I tried shouting but she didn’t hear.” Uncle Sherlock said. Your lying I can tell Uncle Sherlock.

“I was on the other side of London.” John pointed out, growing frustrated.

“There was no hurry.” Uncle Sherlock assured him. I watched as John reluctantly took out his phone and out it in Uncle Sherlock’s hand.  
Uncle Sherlock put the phone between his hands, under his chin and closed his eyes.

“So this is about the case then?” John once again broke the silence.

“Her case…” Uncle Sherlock whispered. I’m slightly lost as to why he needs John’s phone, but don’t care enough to ask.

“Her case?” John asked.

“Obviously, the murderer took her suitcase.” Uncle Sherlock started. I raised my head off the wall.

“First big mistake.” I finished for him. Uncle Sherlock smirked at me, and John piped up.

“He took her case, so?” John tried to get Uncle Sherlock to clarify, but he didn’t pay any attention to him.

“It’s no use, we’ll have to risk it.” Uncle Sherlock, muttered looking at me. I gave him a confused look.

“Risk what?” I mutter back, but Uncle Sherlock ignored me.

“John there’s a number on my desk I want you to send at text to.” Uncle Sherlock told John, Okay now I’m defiantly lost. Uncle Sherlock held out the phone to John, who looked even more confused than I.

“You brought me all the way across London, to send a text.” John sounded rather disbelievingly.

“Text. Yes the number on the desk.” Uncle Sherlock confirmed for him. John walked over to the window and looked outside for a while. Paranoid. Dammit Father, why did you have to scare the poor man?

“What’s wrong?” Uncle Sherlock asked John, even though he already knew. Uncle Sherlock turned to me, and I winked at him, to show it was Father. Uncle Sherlock smirked.

“Just met a friend of yours…” John trailed off, still looking out the window.

“A friend?” I asked, as I climbed over Uncle Sherlock to get off the sofa.

“An enemy.” John clarified. That’s better, John, Uncle Sherlock defiantly refers to Father as enemy.

“Ahh, which one?” Uncle Sherlock asked

“Your arch-enemy, according to him. Do people have arch-enemies?” John asked.

“Umm, not many people but with our line of work, we have a few.” I replied.

“Did he offer you money to spy on me?” Uncle Sherlock asked casually. John gave Uncle Sherlock a curious face.

“Yes…” He hesitantly answered.

“Did you take it?” Uncle Sherlock piped up. John looked at him appalled at the idea.

“No he didn’t.” I told Uncle Sherlock, “Pity really, we could have split the money!” I added.

“Yes, think it through next time John.” Uncle Sherlock said, disappointed. John smiled and shook his head.

“Who is he?” John’s curiosity came out again.

“The most dangerous man you’ve ever met and not our problem right now. On the desk, the number.” I answered, sitting back down in the chair I relaxed. John went over to the desk with the phone and looked at the number.

“Jennifer Wilson… hang on isn’t that the dead woman?” John asked. Uncle Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Yes, that’s not important, just enter the number.” Uncle Sherlock said impatiently. John started putting the numbers in.

“Are you going it?” Uncle Sherlock asked. John gave a quick yes. “Have you done it?” Uncle Sherlock asked again.

“Ye-Hang on.” John told him. Shaking his head, he looked back at the phone and punched the rest of the numbers in.

“These words exactly. ‘What happened at Laurison Gardens? I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street. Please come.’” Uncle  
Sherlock instructed. John looked at Uncle Sherlock, concerned.

“You blacked out?”

“What? No, no. Type it and sent it quickly.” Uncle Sherlock told him, getting up and walking over the table. He grabbed a chair and put it in front of his chair and sat down, then spoke to me. “Ophelia, bring me the case from the kitchen please.” He pointed to it. I walked over a picked it up, and looked over it.

“When did you get this?”

“In the trash, in an alley way about five minutes from Laursion Garden.” Uncle Sherlock replied.

Uncle Sherlock opened the case up and John looked over.

“That’s… the pink lady’s case, that Jennifer Wilsson’s case…” Johnstated the obvious.

“Obviously.” Uncle Sherlock said. John looked at the two of us with a questioning look. “Oh perhaps I should mention that neither I nor Ophelia killed her.” Uncle Sherlock sighed and said in a mocking tone.

“I never said you did.” John defended himself.

“Why not, given the text that Uncle Sherlock just had you send and the fact that we have her case is a perfectly logical assumption.” I jumped back into the conversation.

“Do people usually asume one of you is the murderer?” John curiously asked. Uncle Sherlock and I smirked.

“Now and then yes, more often Ophelia than me for some strange reason?” Uncle Sherlock answered as he jumped and repositioned himeself on the sofa, so he was sitting on his feet with his hand poised under his chin. I sat on the arm of his chair and looked at the case, while John moved to the other chair, and sat down in it.

“How did you get this?” John asked.

“As I just explained to Ophelia, I found it in the alleyway, on my way back. No one could be seen with a case like this without drawing attention to themselves, particularly a man, which is statisically more likely. He must have gotten rid of it as soon as he noticed he still had it. So he must have pulled it in the alleyway when no-one was looking and thrown it away. It wouldn’t have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake, there were only a few alleyways wide enough for a car, where he could have gotten rid of it.” Uncle Sherlock quickly explained. John looked baffled.

“All that, you got all that because you realized the case would be pink.” John asked but managed to phraase it more like a statement.

“Well it had to be pink obviously.” Uncle Sherlock rushed out.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” John asked more to himself rather than to us.

“Because you’re an idiot.” I said bluntly, John looked at me insulted.

“Oh, don’t look at her like that, practically everone is.” Uncle Sherlock waved John off. “Now look, do you see what’s missing?” He asked  
John.

“From the case, how could I know?” John countered. I could tell that he was still a bit insulted by what I had said.

“Her phone. Where is her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there’s no phone in the case, we know she has one, as that’s her number there you just texted.” Uncle Sherlock explained further.

“Maybe she left it at home?” John suggested.

“She has a string of lovers and she’s careful about it, she would never leave her phone at home.” I answered him.

“Oh no…” John mumbled. “Who did I just send that text to?” John became rather concered.

“Well the question is, where is her phone now?” Uncle Sherlock countered.

“She could have lost it?”

“Yes or…?”

“The murderer… you think the murderer has the phone?” John realized.

“Maybe she left it with the case? Or the murderer could have confiscated it from her?” I suggested. Uncle Sherlock smirked at me.

“Either way, with the balance of probability indicates that the murderer has her phone.” John looked even more concerned.

“Sorry. W-What are we doing, did I just text… a murderer? What good will that do?” John stuttered out. Just then, John’s phone rang. He picked it up and looked torn between answering it or not.

“Oh don’t bother answering it.” I told him. “A few hours after his last victim, and he recived a text that can only be from her.” I started.

“Of someone had just found that phone they’d ignore a text like that, but the murderer would panic.” Uncle Sherlock flipped the case closed. We got up and started putting on our coats, mine looked like this.

“Have you talked to the police?” John askedus as we got ready to leave.

“Four people are dead, there isn’t time to talk to the police.” I answered, pulling on my gloves.

“So why are you talking to me?” John was now growing frustrated.

“Mrs Hudson took my skull.” Uncle Sherlock looked longingly at the place where it was usually. I rolled my eyes.

“Well, What about Ophelia?” John pestered again.

“What about her?” Uncle Sherlock countered.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” John asked like this was kindegarten and he was trying to help Uncle Sherlock make friends. Uncle Sherlock  
smirked.

“My dear Ophelia, is almost exactly like me, especially when it come to ways of thinking. It’s like talking to myself.” Uncle Sherlock said, putting his arm around my shoulders.

“Which is useful, but occasionally gets a bit dull, we do love talking with each other, but occasionally we need a…” I hesitated, looking for a better word, “aw hell, I don’t know how to say this, without insulting you John, but a less developed brain to work off.” I smiled at the end.

“Well?” I looked at John.

“Well what?” John asked

“Well you could just sit there and watch telly…” Uncle Sherlock pulled a disgusted face.

“You want me to come with you?” John finished for him.

“I like company when I go out, and Ophelia enjoys meeting new people. We think better when we talk out loud, Ophelia already knows what  
I’m about to say most of the time, and it helps when you explain things to people. Uncle Sherlock explained as John smiled. “Problem?”

“Yeah, Sargent Donovan,” John started. Uncle Sherlock and I rolled our eyes.

“What about her?” I asked with disinterest.

“She said you two get off on this, you enjoy it.” He finished.

“And Uncle Sherlock said dangerous, and here you are.” I observed. We walked out the door, with John following.


	6. Angelo's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, Sherlock and Marriette go to Angelo's  
> \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We left the flat and we headed off to 22 Northumberland Street, It wasn't far so we decided to walk there. I was wearing this under my coat.

“Where are we going?” John asked. I looked at him before pointed ahead.

“Northumberland Street is just a five minute walk from here, John.” I answered, walking, with a slight hop in my step. John looked at us like we were crazy.

“You think he’s stupid enough to go there?” John asked Uncle Sherlock and I smirked.

“Oh, no, we think he’s brilliant enough.” Uncle Sherlock smiled to himself, “I love the brilliant ones, and they’re always so desperate to get caught.”

“Why?” John asked as if it was outrageous for a criminal to want to be caught, I smirked at him.

“Appreciation, applause,” I threw my hands in the air, as if gesturing to an audience. “At long last, the spotlight. That’s the frailty of genius, it needs an audience, it needs to be recognised and noticed.”

“Yeah…” John trailed off, looking at me funny; I just smiled at the pretend audience in front of me, then back to John.

“This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted that changes everything. All of his victims were taken from busy streets, crowed places, but no one saw them go.” Uncle Sherlock ranted with a sarcastic face at the end. “Think!You too Ophelia. Who do we trust, even when we don’t know them? Who passes, unnoticed, wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?” Uncle Sherlock trailed off, I started thinking, but I wasn't getting anything, as it was too loud on the street for me to think properly, as my brain is not as trained as Uncle Sherlock, I’I'm only just leaving University.

“Dunno, who?” John asked, why would we ask if we knew John, We don’t know.

“I haven’t the faintest.” I gave up for meantime. “Hungry?” I asked as I spotted Angelo’s. I started heading there and Uncle Sherlock and John followed. We walked in and Billy gestured us to our usual table. After thanking him we took our seats, John sitting on the right of me, with his back to the window, and Uncle Sherlock was on my immediate left. “22 Northumberland Street, keep your eyes on it.” I told John, as I knew Uncle Sherlock would be watching it as well.

“He’s not just going to ring the doorbell is he? He’d have to be mad.” John observed.

“Very good, John, however he has just killed four people.” I told him sadly. John just shrugged in agreement. I noticed Angelo came over to our table.

“Sherlock, Ophelia.” Angelo greeted, shaking Uncle Sherlock’s hand and I got up to give him a quick hug. “Anything you want, anything on the menu for free! For you two, and for your date Sherlock.” He finished, winking at John. I tried so hard not to laugh, as I looked at John.

“Do you want to eat?” Uncle Sherlock asked John, ignoring Angelo’s comment. I was still trying not to laugh.

“I'm not his date.” John tried to clarify. Angelo didn't listen.

“This man got me off a murder charge.” Angelo said gratefully to Uncle Sherlock. Uncle Sherlock pointed to Angelo, looking at John.

“This is Angelo. Three years ago, I successfully proved to Lestrade that at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder, that Angelo was on the other side of town, house breaking.” Uncle Sherlock explained the past case that I hadn't worked on. 

“He cleared my name.” Angelo said, shaking John’s hand.

“I cleared it a bit.” Uncle Sherlock pointed out. “Anything happening opposite?” Uncle Sherlock asked.

“No,” He answered, “But if it weren't for this man, I’d have gone to prison.” Angelo continued, talking to John now.

“You did go to prison.” Uncle Sherlock pointed out again.

“Would you like anything little one?” Angelo turned to me now.

“Angelo, I'm 21, hardly little.” I playfully argued back. He looked surprised.

“Are you really? I could have sworn you were 17 last time I saw you?” he smiled.

“That’s because I was 17 last time I saw you.” I pointed out, rolling my eyes playfully.

“Well you’re still little to me dear. It seems I’ve missed a couple of birthdays then! Tell you what I’ll bring you a little surprise dear.” He  
winked at me and I smiled brightly. He turned to John. “I’ll bring a candle for the table, it’s more romantic,” he winked at John too and walked back to the kitchen. I couldn’t help it, and started silently chuckling, Uncle Sherlock wasn’t really paying attention but John glared at me.

“I’m not his date!” John called after Angelo, I smirked at him.

“You might as well eat; we may have a long wait.” Uncle Sherlock told him. Angelo brought the candle to the table and John gave him a sarcastic smile. Angelo went back to the kitchen and came over to the table with his hand behind his back. I gave him a suspicious look and he gave me a very warm smile. He brought his hand out from behind him and showed me the surprise. I gasped at the plate in front of me.

“Angelo, this is amazing.” I gushed, ecstatically, “Blue pasta, you remembered my favourite? I asked, touched that he would remember.

“Of course I did! Enjoy!” He said cheerfully walking away. I smiled at the plate in front of me.

“People don’t have arch-enemies.” John broke the silence. Uncle Sherlock was watching the street and didn’t hear him.

“Sorry, what?” Uncle Sherlock turned his attention to John after a moment. John sighed.

“In real life, there are no arch-enemies in real life, it doesn’t happen.” John repeated. I made a weird face.

“Really? Sounds boring.” I said surprised and slightly disappointed.

“So who did I meet?” John asked again. Please John, just drop it.

“What do people have then in their ‘real lives’?” Uncle Sherlock asked, keeping his attention on the street.

“Friends. You know, people they like, people they don’t like. Girlfriends, boyfriends.” John rambled on.

“Just as we said, Dull!” Uncle Sherlock told him. John looked curios.

“So you don’t have a girlfriend then?” John asked. Well this conversation is getting rather funny!

“Girlfriend? No, not really my area. I’ve got Ophelia, she takes care of me.” Uncle Sherlock smiled at me, putting his arm around me, pulling  
me close fondly. I smiled at my Uncle. John smiled at us.

“Sweet, so… you’ve got a boyfriend?” John muttered. “Either of you?” I smiled at John, trying not to laugh. “Which is fine by the way.” John rushed out looking back at dad.

“I know its fine.” Uncle Sherlock said, cautiously.

“So you don’t have a boyfriend then? Either of you?” John asked again.

“I don’t know many people my own age, so no.” I asked quickly.

“No.” Uncle Sherlock said quickly.

“Right, okay.” John started. “You’re unattached, like me.” He finished mumbling. I widened my eyes at John and tried not to laugh. Uncle Sherlock made a very awkward face and took his arm off my shoulders.

“Uh… John… I should inform you I consider myself married to my work, and while I’m flattered by your interest I’m really not looking for any kind of relationship…” Uncle Sherlock awkwardly started before John interrupted him.

“No. No, I’m not asking – no. I’m just saying, it’s all fine.” John clarified, I tried so hard not to laugh. Uncle Sherlock looked at me and glared at me. I just smiled at him.

“Good, thank you.” Uncle Sherlock mumbled at John. I just smiled and shook my head at them. “Look across the street. A taxi had just stopped. Nobody getting in, nobody getting out. “Why taxi?” Uncle Sherlock asked, John and I looked across the street at the cab. “Oh that’s  
clever, is it clever? Why is it clever?” Great now Uncle Sherlock’s talking to himself. We were all staring at the taxi now.

“Don’t stare.” I ordered John. He looked at me shocked.

“You’re staring.” He gestured to us. I rolled my eyes as me and Uncle Sherlock stared to get up.

“Well, we can’t all stare can we?” I asked sarcastically.” Uncle Sherlock and I quickly got up and left the restaurant with John trailing behind us. He forgot his cane…


	7. Taxi Chase

When we stepped outside, we finished putting our coats on, still keeping our eyes on the taxi. The passenger looked back at us and made eye contact with me for a few seconds, before the taxi started to drive away, so obviously, we ran after it. Uncle Sherlock and I slid over the bonnet of a car and John ran around it, apologizing to the driver. When we arrived at where the taxi used to be, Uncle Sherlock stopped.

“I’ve got the taxi number.” John informed us. I smiled at him honestly what was the point in that? I thought to myself. I turned to Uncle Sherlock.

“Good for you! Uncle Sherlock?” I looked at Uncle Sherlock and he put his head down, navigating his way around his mind palace.

“Right turn, one way, road works, traffic lights, pause light, pedestrian crossing, left hand only traffic lights,” Uncle Sherlock read out the directions from his mind palace. Uncle Sherlock and I spotted the ‘Alternative Route’ sign and ran for the small building knocking someone over, who John apologized to again. We ran inside and up some stairs on to the roof. “Come on John!” Uncle Sherlock called to John who had fallen behind. We got to the roof, went partially down the fire escape and jumped to the roof of another building, then jumped to another. At this jump, John paused, I was behind him.

“Go John! We’re losing him!” I nudged him a bit, before running ahead of him and jumping. Uncle Sherlock caught me to make sure I landed okay. John followed me shortly after. We ran over to the fire escape and hurried down, heading back onto the street. We ran as fast as we could down the alley but we just missed the taxi. Uncle Sherlock growled in frustration.

“This way!” He yelled, going right. John went left.

“No! This way!” I yelled at him. John ran back, muttering a quick ‘sorry’. We ran down several streets and took sudden turns, always following Uncle Sherlock and his mental map of the street of London. Eventually, Uncle Sherlock caught the taxi, and hit the hood of the car.

“Police! Open her up!” Uncle Sherlock barked at the car. We went over to the passenger side and opened the door to a very confused man.

“No, No. It’s not him.” I whispered, slightly out of breath. “LA, Santa Monica. Just arrived.” I told Uncle Sherlock, who nodded in agreement.

“How could you possibly know that?” John asked me, also out of breath.

“The luggage!” I told him, like it was obvious, which it was.”

“Probably your first trip to London, right? Going by your final destination and the route the cab was taking you?” Uncle Sherlock asked politely.

“Sorry, are you guys the police?” The man asked in an America accent, “She’s a bit young isn’t she?” He gestured to me now.

“Yeah,” Uncle Sherlock flashed a police badge, “And she’s short for her age, she actually 25. Everything alright?” Uncle Sherlock answered as I showed him the ID that Father had given me. The man smiled now.

“Yeah.”

“Welcome to London!” Uncle Sherlock gave him a fake, but convincing smile.

“Any problems just let us know.” John added in. we left the cab and stood in the street, still catching our breath. “Basically it was just a cab that slowed down.” John summed up.

“Basically.” Uncle Sherlock agreed.

“Not the murderer. “ I added in.

“Not the murderer no.” Uncle Sherlock agreed again.

“Wrong country, good alibi. And where… where did you get this?” John asked, grabbing the ID out of Uncle Sherlock’s hand. “Detective Inspector Lestrade?” He asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, I pickpocket him, or get Ophelia to do so, when he’s annoying, you can keep that one. I’ve got plenty at the flat.” Uncle Sherlock told him.

“Okay, now where did you get that sort of ID?” John asked me.

“Father had it made for me; it gives me security clearance to practically everywhere.” I replied.  
John started laughing silently; Uncle Sherlock and I looked at him confused.

“What?” Uncle Sherlock asked.

“Nothing, just ‘Welcome to London’” John answered. Uncle Sherlock and I looked at each other and silently started laughing too. We looked over back to the taxi and saw the passenger talking to a real police man. Crap.

“Got your breath back?” I asked them.

“Ready when you are.” John agreed as Uncle Sherlock nodded his head. Together we ran all the way back to Baker Street.


	8. Drugs Bust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just to keep you going, sorry about how long it's been.

We entered 221B and leaned against the wall, gasping for breath but John and I were still smiling.

“That was… the single most ridiculous thing… I have ever done.” John breathed out. Uncle Sherlock and I grinned at each other.

“And you invaded Afghanistan.” Uncle Sherlock pointed out, I nudged him.

“You are aware that, that wasn’t just him.” I argued.

“No it was your father as well.” Uncle Sherlock retorted. We all laughed.

“So why aren’t we back at the restaurant?” John asked once we stopped laughing.

“Oh they can keep an eye out; it was a long shot anyway.” I told John.

“So what were we doing then?” John asked, surprised.

“Oh, just passing the time, and proving a point.” Uncle Sherlock replied.

“What point?” John asked curiously. I smiled.

“You. Mrs Hudson!” Uncle Sherlock yelled, “Doctor Watson will take the room upstairs!”

“Says who?” John asked with a challenging tone.

“Says the man at the door.” Uncle Sherlock just as there was a knock, I gestured for John to go answer it. When he opened the door Angelo was there, holding John’s cane.

“Sherlock texted me, he said you forgot this.” Angelo told him, holding out the cane. John looked back at us and we both smiled at him. Uncle Sherlock gave him a genuine smile, something that he does not do often, maybe that makes John one of the special ones. John said thanks to Angelo and joined us just as Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat.

“Upstairs.” She simply said. We all rushed upstairs to the flat, taking the steps two at a time. We entered the flat and saw what was appeared to be a third of the Scotland Yard I had, in the flat searching through Uncle Sherlock’s stuff! Uncle Sherlock walked straight to Lestrade, who was sitting in Uncle Sherlock’s chair, just watching. This isn’t the Diogenes club, this our home, you moron!

“What are you going?” I growled at him, angry for Uncle Sherlock. He smirked at us.

“Well I knew you’d find the case, I’m not stupid.” He told us.

“Well you can’t just break into our flat!” I raised my voice a bit.

“And you can’t withhold evidence!” Lestrade retorted in the same tone as before. “And I didn’t break into your flat.”

“Well what do you call this then?” Uncle Sherlock gestured to the chaos around us. Lestrade looked around.

“It’s a drugs bust!” Lestrade said like we should be happy about this. I just gave him a look that was like What the hell? And moved to sit in my chair

“Seriously, these two? Junkies? Have you met them?” John jumped in. Ah! Problem… 

“John…” Uncle Sherlock muttered, warning him to shut up, but John didn’t listen.

“I bet you could search this flat all day and you wouldn’t find anything you could call recreation. For God’s sake Ophelia only 21!” John continued. Seriously John? People younger than me do drugs, come one John where have you been? Although I don’t actually do any.

“John you probably want to shut up now.” Uncle Sherlock whispered, getting in his face to be intimidating.

“No… you?” John looked at us, the most surprised face I’ve ever seen him have, and that’s saying something with this guy.

“Oh shut up!” Uncle Sherlock replied and turned away.

“We aren’t your sniffer dogs!” I sternly told Lestrade.

“No, Anderson’s my sniffer dog.” He gestured his head to the kitchen, and the door swings back and there’s Anderson.

“What the hell are YOU doing on a drugs bust?” I yelled at him, outraged at having him in the flat.

“OH I volunteered.” Anderson practically whispered.

“They all did. They’re not strictly speaking on the drugs squad but they’re very keen.” Lestrade pointed out. Then, Sally came around the corner.

“Are these Human eyes?” She held up the jar, that I had put in the microwave.

“Put those back!” I yelled at her.

“They were in the microwave.” She stated, looking slightly scared. I rolled my eyes.

“We’re not cannibalistic if that’s the conclusion your stupid brain came to! They’re an experiment now. Put. Them. Back!” I finished growling through clenched teeth. She turned to put them back. I turned to look at the table. “And you! Whoever you are. Unless you know exactly what chemicals you are dealing with, step away from the table! There are chemicals that could burn you bloody fingers off!” The man drew his hand away, and looked at me with an very scared look on his face. “What? You are looking for drugs not chemicals. Now make sure you don’t touch anything that looks like it could be dangerous, no, forget that, don’t touch anything on that table.” I ordered, and then walked back to Uncle Sherlock and Lestrade.

“Keep looking guys!” Lestrade called. “Or you could start helping us properly and I’ll stand them down.”

“This is childish.” I retorted.

“Well, I’m dealing with children,” Lestrade whispered back. “Sherlock, Ophelia this is our case and I’m letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?”

“Oh, oh. What so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?” Uncle Sherlock asked still outraged. Lestrade became very serious, standing to face both of us.

“Stop's being pretend if we find anything.” Lestrade warned us.

“I am clean!” Uncle Sherlock turned around so everyone heard him.

“Is your flat? All of it?” Lestrade looked at me now, “I hope you haven’t followed your Uncle with that attitude Ophelia?”  
I growled at him, “I have never taken drugs, nor do I smoke, and I don’t intend to start.” I replied, as Uncle Sherlock rolled up his sleeve.

“I don’t even smoke!” Uncle Sherlock said as he showed the nicotine patches. Lestrade rolled up his sleeve to show us his.

“Neither do I, so let’s work together. We found Rachel.” Lestrade informed us. That perked up our attention.

“So, who is she?” I asked. Lestrade looked at me.

“Jennifer Wilsons’s only daughter.”

“Daughter… why would she write her daughter’s name, why?” Uncle Sherlock cut in.

“Never mind that we found the case, and according to someone, the murderer has the case. And we found the case in the hands of our favourite psychopaths!” Anderson put in stupidly, the moron.

“We are not psychopaths Anderson, we are high functioning sociopaths, do make sure you do your research.” I replied to Anderson.

“You need to bring Rachel in, we need to question her.” Uncle Sherlock demanded.

“She’s dead.” Lestrade told him.

“Excellent. How long and why? Is there a connection? There has to be!” Uncle Sherlock added.

“Well I doubt it since she’s been dead for 14 years, technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilsons’s still-born daughter, 14 years ago.” Lestrade informed us. I flinched slightly – I had been born not breathing, it took the doctors nearly an hour to get me to breath properly, and I was on a ventilator for several weeks afterwards.

“That’s… that’s not right. Why would she do that why?” Uncle Sherlock said, although more to himself than anyone else.

“Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yeah sociopath, I’m seeing it now.” Anderson cut in. Oh how I wish he would stop doing that to Uncle Sherlock, it’s just plain rude.

“She didn’t just think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort, it would have hurt.” Uncle Sherlock retorted.

“You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, he makes them take it. Maybe he talks to them? Could he have used the death of her daughter somehow?” John suggested. Hmm… that’s an interesting theory.

“That was ages ago, why would she be upset?” Uncle Sherlock asked, I quickly got up and left the room, but I could feel his eyes linger on me for a moment. I could hear someone following me, it was Lestrade.

“You okay?” He asked, he’s good like that – I know that I’m a Holmes and that Caring is not an advantage, but I guess that it must be because I’m a woman and more ‘emotional’. Lestrade seems to understand me better than most.

“I guess, sometimes Uncle Sherlock sometimes forgets what Mama and Father went through when I was born. Sometimes I just want to punch his face.” I replied.

“You too?” John said jokingly, coming out of the doorway in to the flat and sitting next to me and Lestrade.

“Yes, I guess so… he can be very irritating.” I replied to John, “We should probably go back.”  
We all got up off the stairs and returned back to the flat.

“Okay, so if you were clever, really clever. Like Jennifer Wilson, she was clever – running all those lovers, she had to be. So why write Rachel?” Uncle Sherlock started firing questions.

“Oh, she’s trying to tell us something!” I exclaimed.

“Isn’t the doorbell ringing? Your taxi’s here Sherlock.” Mrs Hudson appeared behind me, in the doorway.

“I didn’t order a taxi, go away!” Uncle Sherlock waved her off.

“Oh dear, they’re making such a mess.” Mrs Hudson said sadly, looking around.

“More than Uncle Sherlock, and myself make on a daily basis?” I asked sarcastically. Mrs Hudson just gave me a look that told me not to make so many sarcastic comments, for she had an amazing wit herself.

“They’re making a mess of your mess Ophelia, your mess is a sort of organised chaos. There is a difference.” She replied, smiling at me. I smiled back.

“It’s a drugs bust, Mrs Hudson.” John quietly told her. Mrs Hudson looked slightly horrified.

“But they’re just for my hip. They’re herbal soothers.” She clarified.

“SHUT UP EVERYONE. SHUT UP! DON’T MOVE, DON’T SPEAK, DON’T BREATH. ANDERSON FACE THE OTHER WAY, YOUR FACE IS PUTTING ME OFF!” Uncle Sherlock yelled out. I sat in my chair and entered my mind palace, well it’s more of a castle than anything, as it is modelled off Father’s mind palace.

“What? My face is?” Anderson asked, offended.

“Everyone be quite and still, Anderson turn your back.” Lestrade ordered.

“Oh for God’s sake.” Anderson said with disbelief.

“YOUR BACK, NOW PLEASE!” Lestrade shouted, Anderson rolled his eyes but turned around anyway.

“Come on, Think!” Uncle Sherlock ordered his brain, I tried to utilise my brain as well.

“What about your taxi?” Mrs Hudson piped up.

“MRS HUDSON!” Uncle Sherlock yelled, turning to her. She quickly turned and went back downstairs. Uncle Sherlock suddenly had a look of realization on his face, trying to get everyone to understand, and suddenly I realized too. “Oh, she was so clever!” I exclaimed.

“She’s clever than you lot and she’s dead! Do you not see? Do you not get it? She never lost her phone, she planted it on him! Oh she was so brilliant!” I danced around the room, in the excitement.

“When she got out of the car, she knew she was going to her death, so she left the phone in order to lead us to her killer!” Uncle Sherlock walked around the room explaining.

“But how?” Lestrade asked. Uncle Sherlock and I were confused, how could Lestrade not see, the solution?

“What do you mean how?” I asked, confused. Lestrade shrugged his shoulders as John sat down in his chair. “Rachel! Wha- Don’t you see R.A.C.H.E.L!” Uncle Sherlock probably looked delusional but he didn’t care. Honestly they are so stupid!

“Oh look at you lot, you’re all so vacant. Is it nice not being us? It must be so relaxing.” Uncle Sherlock laughed slightly and put his arm around my shoulder. “Rachel is not a name!” I added.

“Then what it is?” John asked, speaking for the first time in a while.  
“John, on the luggage there’s a label, Email address.” I ordered him, whilst pulling out my laptop and sitting in my chair. I waited for John to read the email address, Uncle Sherlock came over to my chair and looked over my shoulder.

“Uhh, jenny.pink@mephone.org.uk” John read out , I grinned.

“She didn’t have a laptop, so she did her business on her phone. It’s a smart phone so its email enabled.” I said, and Uncle Sherlock finished,

“So there’s a website for her account, the username is her email, and all together now, her password is… Rachel.” As I typed it in.

“So we can read her emails, so what?” Anderson spoke up, again. Does he ever shut up?

“Anderson, don’t talk out loud, you lower the IQ of the whole street. We can do much more than just read her emails. It’s a smart phone, it’s got GPS.” Uncle Sherlock pointed out, to all those that were too stupid to understand.

“Which means if you lose it you can locate it online, she’s leading us directly to the man who killed her.” I finished. John was now looking  
over my shoulder too.

“Unless he got rid of it.” Lestrade added in. John turned his head to look at him.

“We know he didn’t.” John responded.

“Oh, come on, Hurry!” I was really frustrated with the laptop. The internet was so slow, my phone would have been faster.

“Sherlock, dear, your taxi-” Mrs Hudson had come back upstairs. Uncle Sherlock got up and walked over to her. “Mrs Hudson, isn’t it time for your evening soother?” Uncle Sherlock, turned away and talking to Lestrade, however I didn’t listen at I was preoccupied with the phone tracker. That’s impossible, it, it can’t be here…

“Uncle Sherlock…” I trailed off. “Uncle Sherlock, You’ll want to look at this…” Uncle Sherlock came back over to me quickly.

“Where Ophelia, where is it?” Uncle Sherlock asked, looking at the map.

“It’s here… It’s in 221 Baker Street… But… How?” I questioned, I was so puzzled.

“How… How can it be here, how?” Uncle Sherlock was just as puzzled as me.

“Maybe, it was in the case when you brought it back, and it fell out somewhere?” Lestrade suggested.

“What and I didn’t notice it? Me? I didn’t notice? Or Ophelia? One of us would have noticed!” Uncle Sherlock, told him, slightly offended, as I was I.

“Anyway, we texted him and he called back.” John told him, before Lestrade turned back to his team.

“Guys we’re also looking for a mobile…” I wasn’t listening to him though. I was busy thinking. Who do we trust, even when we don’t know them… who hunts in the middle of a crowd… TAXI DRIVERS!

I looked up to see Uncle Sherlock pulling on his coat.

“Uncle Sherlock… Where are you going?” I asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry, I’m just popping out for a moment, won’t be long. Stay here!” Uncle Sherlock said sternly. I sighed. “Be back soon.” I ran over to the window and saw his get into a cab. Oh, the taxi driver that Mrs Hudson said was here, why would he come? Unless… Crap! He’s the murderer!


End file.
